You light a lighter,
You conjure a flame;
You rub two rocks,
You conjure a flame.
You light a matchstick,
You conjure a flame,
You do it, again and again.
Let me tell you, it's a wicked game.

The satisfaction,
That comes with shaming someone,
Ah! So glorious, right?
Telling a diabetic every pair of jeans fits him tight,
Asking a poorer guy,
If he begs for food all night?
Fun, am I right?
Nope.  WRONG.
Every Asian isn't called Ching Chong,
Every deformed person isn't 'King Kong'
Every Chinese doesn't play Mahjong,
Females can play football,
Black people aren't ***** at all!

Just quit the ****** stereotyping,
Shaming and hurting doesn't make you any king.
Every time you shame,
You conjure a flame.
A flame of hurtfulness and pain.

I've, been sitting on my bed,
Contemplating life,
The worries in my head...

Trying so hard,
To socialise and embark,
On this pointless quest,
Of making some friends...

The ones I lost,
For a reason unknown,
I wonder, what have I ever done?
Curse myself,
Yet once again,
To learn that the fact that me trying to gain attention,
Has been making me lose friends.

So I chuck this 'self-pity',
In the back of my head,
And start being myself.
Irrespective of what others think of me,
'For attention, I will not change myself,'
I promise to continue,
Being myself.

I check my phone,
To find out there's zero notifications
All my contacts,
The only three I have,
Of which two are family,
It's me who's sent the last text, 'hey'
I'm having a cup of tea when there's a 'ding'
I check my phone...
To realise...
All three of my contacts have blocked me.

The betrayal had to come one day...

In the basement, in the mud,
Walking together, you were a best bud.
We talked nonsense, we talked crud,
Yet we laughed along,
You were a best bud.

Then one day you just came,
Listening to a weird song,
Confessing you hated me all along.
My face, my voice, you hated all of me,
Telling me I wasn't worthy enough,
To be seen.

You cursed me,
You hurt me.
One day it was all clear,
I was to get lost.

I feel hollow.
It tears me up,
Wears me down.
I try hard,
But nothing comes in.
Where's the sorrow?

Yeah, I, I know it's hard to remember
The people we used to be.
It's hard, too,
To feel the sorrow
Even though you're right next to me.
We will see each other.
Not today, not tomorrow.
But when I, too, rest in peace.

In these hollow graves,
Many years later.
I'm not going to brood,
Not going to spoil my mood.
You may not feel my sorrow, buddy.
But it's there stored deep in me.

I'm coming back for you one day.
Do you follow?
Because it's hollow, my sorrow.

Whistling a tune with my parched lip,
I walked through the deserted desert.
Visualizing I was in a extravagant ship,
On a luxury trip, having dessert.  

Regrettably, I knew I was in a desert,
With nothing to cover me but a torn shirt.
My miserable fate
Thirsty, my pocket full of rotten dates.
Hoping for something decent,
to come my way.

A blue liquid shimmered in the front.
Hope flooded into me.
I jumped into the water,
And I drank like I had never drunk.

And by the way it’s not the same old mirage story,
It was water and I sipped it in glory!

Lack of rest,
I’m not impressed,
I’m stressed, depressed.
After a blood test,
With a friend, I lost a bet,
Oh me? I’m depressed.

Ditched for no reason,
This is pure treason,
I’m sitting in the laps of depression.
It’s time I learn a lesson,
That luck doesn't always favor me,
I need to move forward, make a progression.

We all have ups and downs,
In the short span our hearts beats.
Life is not full of perfection,
We all go through psychotic depression.

It’s high time we chill,
And fill our life with thrills.

It’s time we reverse ‘stressed’
Because spelled backwards,
It’s something we all love- desserts.

The teacher's busy teaching,
Whereas my mind is full.
Oh my, I've got millions of ideas,
Can't control a pencil's pull...

Because I ain’t taking notes and my sheet’s empty
And to doodle, many ideas tempt me.
Ideas? I have plenty
But minutes, Not many.
  
I have loads of space but not a pencil case,
Umm… that, I can borrow from a mate.
I’ll try drawing a party although I have no social trait.
Or probably myself reading my favorite comic Big Nate.

How about me eating spaghetti?
As fall from the heavens confetti.
My mind drifts off,
As all I can think about is Ferrari spin-offs.

Wait… what? Was that the bell?
God save me, I have no excuse to tell!